Dedication to Davey

In the few months since my last entry, I felt too drained to blog as my Uncle and two good friends were lost to cancer. Still, the world continues to spin moments of divine inspiration worthy of sharing.

When I started blogging synchronicity in January 2009, Uncle Davey's health was rapidly fading while Bunny and I were expecting our second child at any moment. With the arrival of baby River, blogging was a portal for sharing the enchantment of life with friends and family, especially my uncle who appreciated the serendipitous interconnections that weave through the fabric of community. In countless ways, he revealed how to see "the light" in life and find gratitude for our part in it.

My uncle passed on September 24, 2009, peacefully with his family in Maui. I heard the news the following morning, and on the next day, headed up to Larch Mountain in The Columbia Gorge near sunset. It's one of the old volcanic peaks with a grand view across the Cascades including Mt. St. Helens where Davey liked to visit whenever touring the Pacific Northwest.

Driving on the freeway out of town, a station wagon pulled in front of me with "KAMEHAMEHA" in bold white letters against a black-tinted window and no other identifying features - not even a license plate. I thought of this connection to Hawaii's last king as Davey's guiding spirit and followed this car reverently into the Gorge. Oddly, it pulled off the freeway at my same exit and started climbing up the hill toward Larch Mountain. I trailed behind - grieving and thinking of the many different ways that my uncle's spirit will continue to bring light into this world.

The car finally pulled into a parking lot at the Viewpoint Inn overlooking the Columbia as the sun dipped into the western sky. On my last visit to this historic inn, I was taking the Goob out for a Father's Day dinner and sunset in 2008 - shortly after getting the news of Davey's late-stage prostate cancer. It was the only time that I recall speaking with my Dad at depth about his brother's terminal condition. Since Davey was always committed to strengthening our relationship, I promptly called the Goob. It was a brief but sweet connection as my cell phone ran out of juice. Then I continued driving up the hill - imagining Davey as my passenger all along the way.

At the crest of Larch Mountain, I nestled into a perch and watched the setting sun fade into twilight - recalling many fond memories with Uncle Davey. A small cloud floated up to the mountain at eye level, swirled around for about a half hour and then drifted north toward St. Helens. Stars and the Milky Way slowly appeared in the night sky. I looked out patiently for shooting stars, but instead saw a strobe flash out of the corner of my eye just above the Eastern horizon. My focus was drawn eastward, and it flashed brightly once more. I have no explanation for this strange occurrence, but I like to believe it was a final connection to Davey's spirit before we meet again on the other side of the veil.

In the weeks following Davey's passing, my process for grieving turned toward a treehouse project that started with Lilly Star and the Goob on the aforementioned visit in 2008. Returning to Portland for Father's Day this year, Goob drew up the plans, and then I collected salvaged construction materials throughout the summer. I have little to no construction skills, but my Uncle was a carpenter by profession. With the support of Bunny, I found inspiration to build this project in memory of Davey and his dedication to fatherhood. With a wall of windows facing south, the treehouse is filled with warmth and light. And of course, it radiates with the laughter and joy of children!